Speaking to the dead
- Thread starter ILLYRIAN
- Start date
thrasherpix
Scooby
- Joined
- Mar 13, 2016
- Messages
- 5,314
- Age
- 43
What a strange question! I'm not sure I understand it so I can only hope what I say is at least of interest if not relevant.
Interesting enough to me, when I realize I'm dreaming I often dream of dead animals being alive again. For some strange reason I never call a human who was dead to me. (I'm not sure I'm "contacting" anyone even when I do call them into my dream.)
But I did have a dream shortly after my best friend died which felt like it might've been more than a dream, mostly because of how well she looked, far better than when alive, and at peace, which I'd never seen her like when she was alive. She told me it was okay and our day to be together again will come, but for now I needed to focus on myself than her, because my pain about her was weighing her down and would hurt us both. My memory is VERY vague of this as I was 15 at the time and just recalling it as best I can now. It's possible why I don't ever call a person as I don't want to bother them. The cats don't seem to mind, however. 😉
There was an old street guy that we called Pappy. ("We" being kids living on the streets of Texas which has harsh laws against runaways, let alone those trying to help us, so we were essentially mixing with the desperadoes and such.) We shared a squat (abandoned building) with him, though he was on a different floor. Still, when I stole or otherwise got food for others in my krew, I tried to have something to take to him. Like us he couldn't get help because he was in violation of parole (he was also a heroin addict).
One day when I was giving him food he was in the mood to talk and he talked a lot about how he got sent to Vietnam. Basically busted for pot. Yeah, I know there was a draft ("your neighbors selected you" or some nonsense, I really don't understand how people can be that gullible to government propaganda) but he somehow got spared it (probably college, but I forget), but after busted for pot he was forced to join the military. And at first he was even allowed to stay in the States, but after busted for pot yet again he got sent to Vietnam where he smoked even more pot and got introduced to harder drugs that led him to becoming a heroin junkie.
He also talked of horrific combat that included killing innocents, sounding similar to the My Lai massacre though the way he described it he was shooting blindly and under orders and didn't know what they were doing until it was over and burying people in lime or something. (You think I ramble, you should hear heroin junkie do so. Ironically it's probably more coherent as I try to recall the essentials of what he said.) This really tore him up and he went to the hard drugs because on them you can easily forget that stuff, at least the feelings that go with the memories (as some escape childhood abuse memories and the like). He somehow managed to get home and even married with kids, but he needed to talk about it. Didn't seem PTSD was something that he could get help for, and those he fought with seemed okay (whether they were or not is something we can't know) but did NOT want to talk about it. That was in the past. In the end, he went back to heroin to forget which ruined his life, lost him his family, spent a lot of time in prison, and finally hiding out in a squat with us kids knowing there was a warrant for his arrest, and shooting up again.
He got agitated and upset and even grabbed me. I think others would've been terrified, but I learned to read my alcoholic parents enough (people reading skills that got more refined on the streets) that I knew he was grasping at me like someone drowning than in dangerous rage. His grip hurt but I allowed it as he shook me and sobbed as he thought he was that evil, and I said if he was then he shouldn't be so upset by it. He was then asking me why is there evil? He wanted me to figure it out for him because he HAD to know. What is evil? How did he go from being the carefree kid he was at my age to who he was now with the memories of what he had done? I told him I'd try to figure it out and tell him but I wasn't sure if I could...but I saw plenty enough of evil around me as it is, and I didn't consider HIM evil. (In retrospect I'm reminded of Van Helsing saying of Frankenstein, "This thing, man, whatever it is - evil may have created it, may have left its mark on it, but evil does not rule it.")
He died shortly after of overdose. I'll never know (at least not alive) if it was suicide or accidental (or hell, even homicide, if say his dealer felt the police were closing in the junkie getting sloppy and thought it would be better to have him die than be able to finger him, our squat did get raided shortly after he died with razorwire and such put up around it so we had to find a new place to hide out).
It haunted me, and I even had dreams of being in the Vietnam War which ended before I was born. I became convinced that the night he gripped me like a drowning man that he placed a shard of his soul in me. So for many Samhains later (using the lunar model than than calendar Halloween, which some Wiccans here may know what I'm talking about) I'd meditate with incense with try to send healing energy to his spirit as well as what I learned and thought, and I believe this was one of the major contributions in why I got interested in sociology (with a side interest in philosophy for awhile, after all, you can't study "evil" unless you can define it first, and that's the realm of philosophy). Sometime in my early 20s when I did that I felt his presence, the one time I felt a "response" that he thanked me but was at peace now, and to be well.
I never did so again for him or anyone else.
I did have one uncanny experience that is suggestive of ghosts, but my own personal theory is that it's just "imprinted" into the building, and I don't feel like going into it.
I don't like the idea of messing with the dead. Life throws so much crap at us that it might annoy them that they're still being bothered by it. (Unless being dead is so boring, which might explain reincarnation, it's just another spectacle and like us playing video games.) I'm not even sure I believe in a continued existence after death. (Even though I've heard some convincing "out of body" near death experiences, it doesn't necessarily mean that those last long, that is it might still end in oblivion.)
In any case, even if the dead can still interact with us, I automatically start out as disbelieving to any who claim to be able contact the dead, especially if they want money for it. (Same for offers to "help the dead" by paying for prayer candles to burn for them and the like, though it might coincidentally give someone focus to send the dead person's soul some healing.)
Interesting enough to me, when I realize I'm dreaming I often dream of dead animals being alive again. For some strange reason I never call a human who was dead to me. (I'm not sure I'm "contacting" anyone even when I do call them into my dream.)
But I did have a dream shortly after my best friend died which felt like it might've been more than a dream, mostly because of how well she looked, far better than when alive, and at peace, which I'd never seen her like when she was alive. She told me it was okay and our day to be together again will come, but for now I needed to focus on myself than her, because my pain about her was weighing her down and would hurt us both. My memory is VERY vague of this as I was 15 at the time and just recalling it as best I can now. It's possible why I don't ever call a person as I don't want to bother them. The cats don't seem to mind, however. 😉
There was an old street guy that we called Pappy. ("We" being kids living on the streets of Texas which has harsh laws against runaways, let alone those trying to help us, so we were essentially mixing with the desperadoes and such.) We shared a squat (abandoned building) with him, though he was on a different floor. Still, when I stole or otherwise got food for others in my krew, I tried to have something to take to him. Like us he couldn't get help because he was in violation of parole (he was also a heroin addict).
One day when I was giving him food he was in the mood to talk and he talked a lot about how he got sent to Vietnam. Basically busted for pot. Yeah, I know there was a draft ("your neighbors selected you" or some nonsense, I really don't understand how people can be that gullible to government propaganda) but he somehow got spared it (probably college, but I forget), but after busted for pot he was forced to join the military. And at first he was even allowed to stay in the States, but after busted for pot yet again he got sent to Vietnam where he smoked even more pot and got introduced to harder drugs that led him to becoming a heroin junkie.
He also talked of horrific combat that included killing innocents, sounding similar to the My Lai massacre though the way he described it he was shooting blindly and under orders and didn't know what they were doing until it was over and burying people in lime or something. (You think I ramble, you should hear heroin junkie do so. Ironically it's probably more coherent as I try to recall the essentials of what he said.) This really tore him up and he went to the hard drugs because on them you can easily forget that stuff, at least the feelings that go with the memories (as some escape childhood abuse memories and the like). He somehow managed to get home and even married with kids, but he needed to talk about it. Didn't seem PTSD was something that he could get help for, and those he fought with seemed okay (whether they were or not is something we can't know) but did NOT want to talk about it. That was in the past. In the end, he went back to heroin to forget which ruined his life, lost him his family, spent a lot of time in prison, and finally hiding out in a squat with us kids knowing there was a warrant for his arrest, and shooting up again.
He got agitated and upset and even grabbed me. I think others would've been terrified, but I learned to read my alcoholic parents enough (people reading skills that got more refined on the streets) that I knew he was grasping at me like someone drowning than in dangerous rage. His grip hurt but I allowed it as he shook me and sobbed as he thought he was that evil, and I said if he was then he shouldn't be so upset by it. He was then asking me why is there evil? He wanted me to figure it out for him because he HAD to know. What is evil? How did he go from being the carefree kid he was at my age to who he was now with the memories of what he had done? I told him I'd try to figure it out and tell him but I wasn't sure if I could...but I saw plenty enough of evil around me as it is, and I didn't consider HIM evil. (In retrospect I'm reminded of Van Helsing saying of Frankenstein, "This thing, man, whatever it is - evil may have created it, may have left its mark on it, but evil does not rule it.")
He died shortly after of overdose. I'll never know (at least not alive) if it was suicide or accidental (or hell, even homicide, if say his dealer felt the police were closing in the junkie getting sloppy and thought it would be better to have him die than be able to finger him, our squat did get raided shortly after he died with razorwire and such put up around it so we had to find a new place to hide out).
It haunted me, and I even had dreams of being in the Vietnam War which ended before I was born. I became convinced that the night he gripped me like a drowning man that he placed a shard of his soul in me. So for many Samhains later (using the lunar model than than calendar Halloween, which some Wiccans here may know what I'm talking about) I'd meditate with incense with try to send healing energy to his spirit as well as what I learned and thought, and I believe this was one of the major contributions in why I got interested in sociology (with a side interest in philosophy for awhile, after all, you can't study "evil" unless you can define it first, and that's the realm of philosophy). Sometime in my early 20s when I did that I felt his presence, the one time I felt a "response" that he thanked me but was at peace now, and to be well.
I never did so again for him or anyone else.
I did have one uncanny experience that is suggestive of ghosts, but my own personal theory is that it's just "imprinted" into the building, and I don't feel like going into it.
I don't like the idea of messing with the dead. Life throws so much crap at us that it might annoy them that they're still being bothered by it. (Unless being dead is so boring, which might explain reincarnation, it's just another spectacle and like us playing video games.) I'm not even sure I believe in a continued existence after death. (Even though I've heard some convincing "out of body" near death experiences, it doesn't necessarily mean that those last long, that is it might still end in oblivion.)
In any case, even if the dead can still interact with us, I automatically start out as disbelieving to any who claim to be able contact the dead, especially if they want money for it. (Same for offers to "help the dead" by paying for prayer candles to burn for them and the like, though it might coincidentally give someone focus to send the dead person's soul some healing.)
one eyed chicklet
Scooby
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2019
- Messages
- 754
I've used ouija boards before, it never worked but it was fun.
I know you can use tarot cards, but I've only ever used them to tell people's futures (I don't believe it but people enjoy me doing it).
I know you can use tarot cards, but I've only ever used them to tell people's futures (I don't believe it but people enjoy me doing it).
Anyanka Bunny Slayer
✨ Hail Hydra ✨
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2015
- Messages
- 13,810
Through prayer, I pray to/through saints at times, but I am not sure how effective it is yet or how I feel about it theologically yet.
Prayer, (like praying through the saints to reach God.) I have prayed to my Grandfather who is dead here but not dead elsewhere.
I actively avoid trying to do that, and this is where I am a bit torn with praying to saints, as I want their guidance but I am not so sure if its the right thing to do. I tend to pray for support from Angels more lately. And I have to say its working better than my prayers to Saints did.
We've discussed this before so please dont feel obliged to reply here but this is how I see "ghosts" too. They are the imprints of who was before, it's like an echo, in that space. I have seen the lives of people (or animals) play out in another time yet in the same place. Almost, a break through, a window? To another time/dimension(?) - its hard to put words to it without also sharing physical language. I have more to say about the war veterans but it's still a bit raw - trauma strips a person, alters awareness.
I am extremely sensitive to areas or buildings and what they have contained. Following an imprint in the bush is phenomenal, I feel what they felt. I have spoken to the owners of the pub before about the experience and fun of their beautiful building, I can be the only one there and feel surrounded. Un-taint-able atmosphere. I have described actual events that I couldnt possibly have known, and some that may be yet to come (I dont like to reach into the future, it scares me as I have been correct too many times). It was what triggered my Gifted Kids thread here on BB, the pub owner identified me as "gifted" before anyone else did in this town (most think I am retarded). The awareness in people with this kind of make up is wider. Some argue that gifted kids dont exisit, and while I am not comfortable with the term "gifted" there is certainly a physical difference in the way we are made and what we are aware of. Much like other diagnosable differences.
When my barriers are weak it is hard to keep the echos out, and it is hard to avoid seeing beyond now. I prefer to be stronger, like I am currently, and leave things in the place they belong. To have access to things not on this plane can be scary and it can be extraordinary. It is far easier not to know it.
How do you see and speak to the dead @ILLYRIAN? I always enjoy your ghost hunter stories, even though I know we experience this world differently.
ILLYRIAN
Druish Pervonian Wizard
Me how do I see the dead?
If a dead person ghost presents his or her self to me, the chances are I will be able to see them. And if a ghost wants to talk with me, that is that persons choice.
I am not going to force them to speak to me, as in an Ouija board when it is used to contact the dead the normal beginning is, "is there anybody there" ie a question. One thing about Ouija board usage do you believe what is said? One way of finding out if what was said was the truth is to tie a key in the bible at where the lords prayer is (which brings about the question, is the bible the truth).
If you do have an Ouija board experience be careful who you share the experience with.
If a dead person ghost presents his or her self to me, the chances are I will be able to see them. And if a ghost wants to talk with me, that is that persons choice.
I am not going to force them to speak to me, as in an Ouija board when it is used to contact the dead the normal beginning is, "is there anybody there" ie a question. One thing about Ouija board usage do you believe what is said? One way of finding out if what was said was the truth is to tie a key in the bible at where the lords prayer is (which brings about the question, is the bible the truth).
If you do have an Ouija board experience be careful who you share the experience with.